


vain hope

by andhera



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rambling, first half is depressive rumination, second half is porn....rambling porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andhera/pseuds/andhera
Summary: We’re all just trying to find someone to make it through the night with.(aged-up Tsukkiyama where they find each other in the most desolate places).





	vain hope

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this fic is semi-autobiographical and was mostly written to vent. I hope all you sad adults enjoy and relate to this. I’ve been so out of writing fic for so long…in the time I’ve had this account, I actually graduated and just started grad school. Be gentle on me? But I also hope you like.

Chapter 1: you were beautiful – day6

 

_ These thoughts had me saying  _

_ You were beautiful  _

_ The way you looked at me  _

_ The way you called me  _

_ Everything, everything  _

_ All that, to me  _

 

_ You were beautiful  _

_ I want no more  _

_ The moments you only gave me _

_ Everything, everything  _

_ It’s all in the past _

_ You were beautiful  _

 

Summer is endless. Cruel, unrelenting, the sun beats down through the blinds and even the stand fan can’t keep him cool for long. A day spent eating, watching Netflix, and getting stoned was calling to him, and he both cursed and blessed the day that he had graduated from university and moved into his own apartment. Not having roommates was amazing; he could avoid showering for as long as he wanted to (usually no longer a day, or two, at the most, and usually on the weekend when there was no one else to smell him) and he could eat whatever the fuck he wanted to with little to no silent judgement. 

The downside is that he had practically given up. 

After he dumped Yachi, his orderly, productive, drug-free lifestyle had slowly come to a halt. It started with little things at first. He wouldn’t put his sneakers on the shoe rack at first, or the next day he would impulsively buy anime merchandise or clothes that he knew he (and his bank account) really didn’t need. But as the days turned into weeks, and after the first week turned into the third, his life had really started deteriorating and he was usually too blazed to even notice (let alone do something about it). 

Laundry wouldn’t get done for a week or two, after which he would have to lug two bags, one on his back and one in his hands, to the laundry room at the other end of his shitty apartment complex and proceed to wash way too many black t-shirts and jeans in the same load as his whites and towels (because who gives a fuck, really, after 22 years of doing them together). He would retire back to his studio apartment and fuck around on the playstation until an hour or two had passed, but god forbid, he wasn’t folding shit, it could just sit in the “clean” hamper until he wore it again (because again, he was thoroughly out of fucks to give at this point). 

Chain smoking on his tiny balcony would turn into getting wasted in front of an episode of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia (he could say with almost 99% certainty it was one he’d seen at least five times before) before long. He knew that he had completely given up on trying to change his life for the better in order to get her back when he picked up smoking again, and he put the final nails in his coffin when he started smoking weed after a year and a half of promising her he would never touch the stuff again. Sleeping with strangers he met on dating apps probably didn’t help either, and he winced when he remembered how he had coldly told her that he would sleep around if they ever broke up because he hated sleeping alone more than anything else. 

He was conflicted.

A part of him wanted to get better, to stop promising her that he would get wasted and then do it anyways, and to take therapy and medication more seriously than he had been. He knew that she was going to forgive him for getting wasted and getting kicked out of a bar for the first time, and he knew that he had hurt her so many times by nothing thinking about her perspective and being careless with his words. He could have reached out to her after the first week and begged her to take him back and he could have thought of the action plan she was looking for to combat his depression and make his brain “work” again…

…but another part of him just fucking didn’t want to continue their relationship anymore. 

Yes, it was true that during their relationship, he had self-harmed and gotten wasted a couple times, both things he promised her he would do because they reminded her of her terrible childhood. He knew he was in the wrong for not being able to respect her boundaries, and he knew what he was getting into when they started dating and she told him about her parents.

But a louder part of him said that no one likes to be nagged constantly for every aspect of their life, from how much water they are supposed to drink to making sure he ate healthy and drank alcohol only in moderation. At that point he wasn’t even sure if he loved her anymore, or if he was trying to get her to break up with him on purpose. He wasn’t sure if he could stand her constantly assuming she was sleeping with her friends, or coworkers, and he knew he couldn’t give her the romance and lifestyle she was looking for. 

In the end, she had been immense like sunlight, and he was simply a burnt star too cold to light their path. He had to leave her, he couldn’t take the constant fighting anymore and his depression was getting worse because even when he tried to be perfect, supportive, and help her with her own mental health issues, he still fucked up. He was always waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next fire to put out….

 

_ Cut to her waking up next to him, warm in his arms and completely naked.  _

_ “Will you really stay forever?” She would always ask _

_ “Yes, I want you and only you,” He replied, without fail.  _

_ She buries her face in her arms as he holds her from behind.  _

_ “Will you ever get tired of putting out fires?”  _

_ “Never.”  _

He looks down at the cigarette he didn’t even remember lighting. It’s almost burned out complete (just like him, he adds, painfully aware of exactly how emo he sounds right now). 

Tonight’s been a great night for reawakening his self-hatred, not that it exactly had been gone away for too long. He remembers all the sweet words, all the forget-me-notes, and promises for forever. Lighting another cigarette, he thinks about what fucking lies all relationships turn out to be. He curses himself, curses his inability to change and the rising self-pity that tells him it’s okay to curl up in bed with a bottle of whiskey to wash down a couple pain killers. 

He’s decided that he’s never going to let anyone love him again. He can’t take being broken again, he can’t take being pushed to the brink of suicide every week and he can’t pretend that being in a relationship didn’t want to make him get shitfaced at the end of a grueling sixty-hour week. He’s just going to have his fun sleeping around, he’s going to focus on getting into grad school (sort of, seeing as how he had to pay for the whole fucking thing on his own after moving out) and he’s going to live at work so that he never has the energy, time, or remaining brain power to stay awake missing the girl he gave a year of his life to, only to end up alone. 

He’s still pretty good at torturing himself, thinking about all the “have nots” and “will never be’s” between the two of them. He’s cigarettes are finished, but it’s only nine PM. He slinks inside but he feels suffocated by the loneliness of his tiny place and the messiness that follows him everywhere. Even though he was just outside on the veranda, he decides that he still needs to get some air. Zipping on a stained black hoody, he makes his way down the stairs, figuring he’ll check out the shitty dive bar within walking distance and try his luck at buying drinks for a stranger. 

After all, there’s no way he’s sleeping alone. 

He hikes his way to the club, a nice twenty-minute walk in the cool breeze of nighttime. He can hear the bass pounding and belatedly realizes that the club he’s walked in to has way more guys in it than girls. He turns his head to the right, and then to the left, and a rainbow flag catches in his peripheral. Rather than being afraid or irritated, his grins. It’s been a while since he’s been with a guy, but the concept is pretty much the same for him. He pays the cover charge and makes his way to the bar where a slight, blond guy with glasses deigns to make eye contact with him. 

He’s okay with this. 

Tapping his fingers on the wood of the bar, he smiles and makes himself comfortable on one of the stools. He has no problem waiting, especially if the bartender continues to glare expressionlessly and avoid his gaze. 

“Let me guess, whisky shots? Or maybe you’d like some gin and tonic, since you’re really looking to get yourself fucked up?” 

Yamaguchi flinches. This guy must be prescient, he was going to order both of those drinks. And he still wasn’t even looking at him! 

“Why, is that cliché?” He plays along. “Surprising that you’re stuck here all night long, you should be out on the dance floor,” 

He knows he’s being cheesy, but it’s only him and the bartender at the bar right now, since everyone else has made their way to the dance floor, and if it gets the guy to crack an ironic smile and shake his head at him slightly, he thinks it’s worth it. 

“It’s definitely fucking cliché.”  

Finally, they make eye contact, as the bartender looks up from the shot he’s pouring to grin sardonically. Yamaguchi’s pierced lips curl up into a smile as well. The man he’s talking to looks like he’s 25, 26 years old, with greasy blond hair matted to his forehead from sweat. 

He’s dressed to the nines, in vest and pressed slacks, but his eyebrow is pierced, and Yamaguchi has a sneaking suspicion that his tongue is as well. It darts out, to trace his bottom lip, and yeah, he called it, there’s a tiny silver ball that peaks out from between his lips. Suddenly, he leans in, and he barely catches what comes next. 

“My shift ends in ten minutes, and I need to get the fuck out of here.” 

Yamaguchi is okay with that. He wasn’t expecting to spend more than an hour or two at the bar anyways, as it was just a place for him to escape the depressing confines of his room for a bit. He’s already planning what they can do together, first he’ll smoke him out and then they can put on the Conjuring and make out for a bit, at the very least. 

(Nothing gets a guy more turned on than horror movies, right?) 

He doesn’t even need to ask if the guy smokes. This town is only so big, and he’s sure he’s seen him around, maybe they even went to high school together. There isn’t much to do, especially in the nine months of winter when the sky is overcast, and all the ponds freeze over. 

They banter back and forth for a bit. This guy has a bitter tongue, and he’s sarcastic enough to have Yamaguchi’s sides splitting in no time. Yamaguchi watches him wipe the counter, throw his apron of onto its surface, and make his way out from behind the bar as the lights start to dim. It’s nearing 3 AM now, and patrons are slowly making their way to the exit.

Yamaguchi’s not jittery anymore; he’s floating, loose-limbed, and thrumming with excitement all at the same time. The blond leads him out and they fall in step together as their feet pound the pavement in the direction of Yamaguchi’s place. The blond lights a cigarette as they are walking, and Yamaguchi smiles when he hesitates, but nevertheless offers him a drag. He takes one and chills at the feel of menthol entering his lungs. He’s never liked mint very much, but he hands the cigarette back after taking one more drag anyways. 

“This one’s mine,” he says unnecessarily, and he unlocks the door and throws the keys on the countertop. 

They make their way inside and the blond makes himself comfortable on the couch while Yamaguchi goes to the kitchen to get them a couple drinks. He returns with a couple cans in his hands, to the sight of the bartender stripping out of his vest and slacks. He’s left in an undershirt and boxers and Yamaguchi’s just about to ask if he wants to borrow a shirt when the blond takes off the scant remaining clothes he was wearing and tosses them to the floor. 

(Yamaguchi will deny it later, but the cans fell to the floor almost immediately.) 

The blond looks at him dead in the eyes and Yamaguchi swallows a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His gaze says, “Are you planning on standing their all night?” and Yamaguchi rushes to his couch and wraps his arms around the slender man immediately. Their lips touch but the kiss doesn’t stay innocent for long. Yamaguchi can tell the man knew what he was getting into the minute they locked eyes, and even when he pulls away, blond pulls him back down and attaches his lips to Yamaguchi’s neck. 

Yamaguchi moans and starts to take off his shirt. The blond helps him and drags his nails down Yamaguchi’s back in a way that makes him hiss in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He sits up to where he can whisper in Yamaguchi’s ear, “My name is Kei,” and the rush of finally knowing his tryst’s name propels Yamaguchi to grab both of his wrists and pin them down with one hand. 

“Kei…” Yamaguchi drawls, “Turn around and get on all fours,” 

The blond, Kei, moans in response but obeys Yamaguchi’s command. Yamaguchi’s erection is pressed against Kei’s leg, and he wastes no time in grinding it between Kei’s ass. He kisses down the Kei’s back, and leaves marks on his neck and shoulders. The blond is submissive under him and lets out a drawn-out moan when Yamaguchi twists his nipples and grinds against him at the same time. Yamaguchi feels rough today, and he grabs Kei’s hair and pulls his head to one side so he can kiss down his neck and leave plenty of hickeys. 

“Why…” Kei pants out, “why do you still have pants on?” 

Yamaguchi grins at this and starts unbuttoning his pants. He shrugs them off and takes of his boxers too, throwing them onto the floor in a pile next to Kei’s.  

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Kei asked, half-sarcastic and mostly desperate. 

Yamaguchi knows that this guy can’t stop himself, knows he’s just naturally snarky all the time. 

He grabs the lube that’s been stored behind one of the couch cushions for a while now, and he wastes no time in slipping two fingers into his waiting companion. Kei keens at this, bucks against his fingers, demanding more from Tadashi, and he’s always been one to please, so he sinks his fingers in deeper, barely allowing the lithe man beneath him to get used to his fingers. 

“Stop fucking around already!” Kei almost screams, and Tadashi has to chuckle at that cause he can tell it’s been a while since his partner has gotten much action. He withdraws his fingers and prepares to push Kei down but he’s cut off when the blond pushes  _ him  _ down onto the loveseat and promptly climbs on top of him. 

“Wh-” Tadashi can barely let out, but Kei is sitting on top of his pelvis and grinding their cocks together.  _ Fuck,  _ Tadashi can barely breathe, and then Kei raises his hips after a few agonizing moments of friction in order to grab Tadashi’s cock and guide it inside of him. 

Tsukishima sinks down on his cock and they both groan at the same time, Kei from the burn of Tadashi’s cock inside him and Tadashi from the tightness that envelopes his dick. He gives Kei a moment to adjust and grabs onto his hips loosely, unsure if he should continue even though every impulse inside of him is telling him to start pounding into the boy on top of him. 

And then Kei starts moving. 

Slowly, at first, but then he starts going so much faster, the unforgiving cadence of his hips suiting Tadashi’s growing arousal perfectly. Kei is riding him in earnest now, and he’s so caught up in it, while Tadashi is completely caught up in him. His face, flushed from the liquor and imminent arousal, and his thin hip bones that Tadashi’s holding onto for dear life, mesmerize him, and he loses all conscious thought when Kei leans his long body down to put his tongue in Tadashi’s mouth again. 

Tadashi’s fingers come to hold Tsukishima’s face, weaving over his soft cheeks and tracing his sharp collarbones. His eyes slam shut and his head is cloudy with the thoughts of the blond on top of him overwhelming his senses. He opens his eyes briefly, to the sight of Kei jerking himself off, fisting his cock with his head thrown back in bliss. 

  
Tadashi never wants to look at anyone else ever again. 

He feels a surge of adrenaline at that moment, and before Tsukishima can register what is happening, Tadashi flips their position and pins Kei down. He holds Kei’s wrists down above his head and immobilizes him so he can thrust into him at a brutal pace. He wants to make him come so badly, wants to watch him fall apart underneath his hands. His tongue comes to flick against Kei’s nipples and he looks up while he’s swirling his tongue around the hardened nubs to see if Kei’s actually enjoying any of this. 

His eyes are shut and he looks absolutely blissed out. Emboldened, Yamaguchi lets go of Kei’s wrists but gives him a look that says  _ Don’t even think about moving.  _ He trails his fingers down Kei’s chest, enjoying the way he shudders underneath his wandering fingers. Feeling unusually romantic, he kisses Kei’s neck and licks down onto his collarbone, leaving little love bits in his wake, relishing the way Kei’s hands betray his commands and come to tangle in his hair. 

Kei pulls him down so he can deepen their kiss and Yamaguchi complies willingly. He takes Kei’s cock into his hand and starts jerking him off, rubbing the tip of his cock and letting come continue to drip onto his fingers. He thrusts in and out of Kei again, and pulls his legs up over his shoulder so he can get an even deeper angle. 

Kei almost screams at that, and the hands in Tadashi’s hair tug hard while their kisses turn more ferocious and Kei bites at his lips in a way that makes Tadashi never want to let go of him. One last final thrust is all that it takes to have Kei yelling his name, and Tadashi’s thrusts get more and more erratic as he can feel how close Kei is to coming. He flips him onto his stomach before Tsukishima even knows what’s going on, and he grabs Kei’s arms his arms back so he can thrust into Kei as deeply as possible. Kei can’t resist him and soon he’s coming all over Tadashi’s fingers, and Tadashi’s spilling inside of Kei before he can understand what’s happening. 

At the last moment, his right hand comes up to grab a fistful of Kei’s hair so he can force Kei to bare his neck to hm. And then he’s marking Kei’s neck with his teeth, hoping to leave one hell of a bruise in his wake, and he gives a few last thrusts into Kei’s pliant, willing body before falling on top of him and resting his chin on top of Kei’s head. 

Kei’s eyes are closed, but his eyelashes are long and his stressed expression fades for a moment as Tadashi brushes some hair out of his eyes. Before he can fully understand the consequences of what he’s doing, he leans down and kisses Kei’s cheek gently, stroking his cheek with his fingers. Kei mumbles under him softly, not fighting his ministrations seriously. 

He turns around to face Tadashi and makes lazy grabby hands at him, and with a soft chuckle, Tadashi gives in and wraps his arms around the spent blond underneath him. They fall asleep like that, spooning on Tadashi’s tiny couch together, to the sound of cars speeding outside the window and with Tadashi’s fingers combing through Kei’s hair while staring at the ceiling. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Many a run on sentence was used.….comment/kudos/constructive criticism is always appreciated
> 
> find me on twitter @ complex_andhera


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